


A Quiet Teatime in Eleutheria

by fallintosanity (yopumpkinhead)



Category: Sunless Skies
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 15:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21580168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yopumpkinhead/pseuds/fallintosanity
Summary: The Fortunate Navigator and the Felined Eccentric have more in common than they realize.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	A Quiet Teatime in Eleutheria

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pear_tree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pear_tree/gifts).



> Minor warnings for canon-typical weirdness, including dead bodies and eldritch horrorterrors in feline form.

The Fortunate Navigator is just setting out tea when the knock comes on his cabin door. He takes a brief moment to make sure the arrangement of cups and plates is just so - he’d spent too long in the service of the Eagle Khan’s ambassador to allow himself to serve a guest improperly - then answers the door. 

A flat-faced grey cat is first through, somehow managing to nearly trip him despite the fact he’s standing still. The chief engineer follows, scolding wearily, “Paimon, leave him alone.” 

The cat yawns. 

The crew call their chief engineer the Eccentric, or, derisively, the Felined Eccentric - though never where they think the cats might hear. If she minds, she doesn’t say so, but then, she really is eccentric. The Navigator isn’t especially fond of his own sky-name; he doesn’t feel fortunate at the best of times, and being skilled at cards is hardly enough to make up for it. But sky-names are one of the more harmless traditions of those who fly the High Wilderness, so he accepts it. 

“Welcome,” he says to her, and gestures to his narrow desk where he’s laid out the tea. It’s cramped in here, just like everywhere on an engine, but he made the effort early on to figure out how to fit tea for two in his little cabin. Altan’s presence, occupying the desk chair by the window, complicates things, but the Navigator has made do.

“Thanks,” the Eccentric says. She sits atop one of the storage crates serving as chairs, narrowly missing sitting on a second cat which has materialized on top. She has to perch awkwardly on the edge of the crate to avoid it. “And thanks for agreeing to have tea with me.”

“Of course,” the Navigator answers. He settles onto the other crate and begins pouring tea. The Eccentric’s third cat, a scarred ginger, has wrapped itself around her feet and is gnawing on her ankle, but she ignores it so the Navigator does as well. “I’m somewhat embarrassed I hadn’t thought to do so earlier,” he says. “You’ve been on board for months now, yet this is the first time we’ve really spoken.” 

The Eccentric laughs. “It’s hardly your fault. This old bucket of bolts keeps me busy.” She pats the bulkhead next to her affectionately, then has to pull her hand back as the grey cat Paimon hisses in annoyance. 

“Still.” The Navigator waits for her to take a sip from her cup before tasting his own. It’s Empress’s Favor, a little taste of London all the way out here in Eleutheria, and the scent of it brings memories of his childhood flickering around the edges of his mind. Serving tea to the ambassador and his guests; sneaking through the attic to meet Altan for a run around the back alleys of London; watching from the window of his tiny bedroom as the Empress’s procession winds along the street below. 

The Eccentric doesn’t have an ambassador’s manners; she isn’t ever rude, but she doesn’t bother with any of the more formal niceties which were the staple of the Navigator’s youth. She downs half her cup quickly, then sets it back on its saucer, wrapping her hands around the porcelain. “It’s a good vintage,” she says. “This the stuff the Captain picked up in Achlys?” 

The Navigator shakes his head. “Melusine’s, back in Lustrum. I keep a personal stash.” 

She makes a noise of appreciation. “I ought to take tea with you more often, then.” 

Paimon the cat gives her a dire feline scowl, but they both ignore him. The Navigator refills her tea, then his own, and they drink in companionable silence. The Eccentric’s eyes drift to the little window on the opposite wall, and the view out over Spinsters’ Garden. The engine had left Piranesi yesterday after dropping off a shipment of souls, passing Maiden’s Mourn this morning on its way to the Eagle’s Empyrean and the transit relay back to the Reach. The sky is darker than usual out here in the furthest corners of Eleutheria, and the familiar worry that they’ll hit an uncharted extinguishment flits across the Navigator’s mind. He pushes it away and focuses on the tea instead. Extinguishments cannot be planned for, and anyway the Captain prefers driving through them instead of wasting time and fuel trying to chart a path around. 

The Eccentric clears her throat, softly. When the Navigator looks up at her, she gives him a wan smile. Does she look…  _nervous?_

His guess is confirmed when she says, almost hesitantly, “So, I wanted to have tea so we could get to know each other, since we’re all running this engine together, but I also… wanted to ask you something. Something personal.” 

The Navigator puts on his friendliest smile in the hope of setting her at ease. Inwardly, though, he wonders if she’s going to ask things about Altan that he can’t answer, not even to himself. “Of course.” 

She sets her cup down and turns it absently on its saucer. Then she says carefully, “You’re… you were born different than what you are now, weren’t you?” 

That… wasn’t what he was expecting, at all, and he blurts, “Did the Captain tell you that?” 

“No.” Her lips twist ruefully, and she throws a glance over her shoulder at the window. “I used to spend a lot of time looking into people’s souls.” No, not at the window, he realizes. Through it, back toward Piranesi, and understanding clicks in his brain. The Eccentric had gone with the Captain to the cottage to deliver the chaplains’ requested shipment of souls, and neither of them had returned for hours. 

He has to take a moment to compose his thoughts, and covers for the lapse by pouring more tea for them both even though neither of them have more than half emptied their cups. Finally he sets down the pot and folds his hands carefully on the table in front of him. “It’s not like Piranesi,” he says, and knows he’s right when she gives a little nod of understanding. 

“I have always been who I am,” he continues. “It’s only that as I grew up, I was able to show the world the true me, instead of hiding myself away.” Then, testing, “But that’s not what it was for you.” 

“No,” she agrees, and looks out the window again. Piranesi is long since vanished into the empty sky, but she seems to be staring at it still as she says, “The chaplains tell you you have to change. You have to give up yourself and become something completely new to escape the prison.” 

He knows he’s pushing, but he can’t help himself. “What were you before?” 

The smile that curls her mouth is dangerous, the expression more like that of her cats than the brusque but sweet woman she is. “Something old. Something powerful. The old me… He wasn’t kind.” 

The black cat, which is still occupying most of the crate she sits on, sneezes in a distinctly feline laugh. The Eccentric glances down at it, and for a strange tense moment the expression on her face makes the Navigator wonder if a remnant of whoever it was she used to be remains in her. But the moment passes, and the cat begins washing its paw, and the Eccentric looks back up at the Navigator with that rueful twist of her mouth. 

“I’m glad I left the old me behind,” she admits. “I like who I am now. I like fixing things, and reading, and taking tea with friends. But… he’s not all the way gone.” 

The Navigator can’t help but frown. “What do you mean?” 

Her gaze goes to her cats. The black cat continues washing its paw disinterestedly. The orange one, which has settled into gnawing on the side of her boot, yawns. The grey one returns her stare, its flat nose upturned haughtily. “They’re parts of him,” the Eccentric says. “Parts of me. They stayed with me, even when I thought I’d left everything else behind.” 

Despite himself, the Navigator can’t help looking over at Altan, still and silent in his seat by the window. The Eccentric notices, and says softly, “He’s what stayed with you, isn’t he?” 

Emotions tangle on the Navigator’s tongue, and for a moment all he can do is twist his fingers together. It’s answer enough for the Eccentric, though. She taps her fingers thoughtfully on her teacup. “Losing someone you care about like that, it’s a change, too. A hard one.” 

He nods, still unable to manage words past the sudden lump in his throat. The Eccentric reaches across the table and takes his hand, squeezing it gently. She doesn’t push, doesn’t ask difficult questions, just sits there in companionable silence. Eventually words tumble out of the Navigator’s mouth, words he’d been keeping locked inside since he’d shown Altan the tiger: “He’ll never… I wanted him to… There’s so much…” He manages to swallow them down again, though they burn his throat like Correspondence. 

The Eccentric’s fingers tighten on his and he clings to her hands, grateful for the stability of her grip. It grounds him, gives him something to focus on. When he speaks again, his voice is steadier: “The things we were going to do, the things we were going to see. When he died, they died with him. I can do…” He makes a vague gesture with one hand. “All this. The battle with the beast. The great tiger. With him. But it’s not the same.”

“What are you going to do?” the Eccentric asks, gently. 

The Navigator takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, or tries to. He suspects the gesture doesn’t look as determined as he’d hoped. “I’m going to give him an ending fit for King Gesar himself.”

The Eccentric raises an eyebrow. 

He hiccups a laugh, remembering too late that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “When we were young, Altan and I - He loved the _Epic of King Gesar_.” 

She nods. “I’ve read it. Good story. Lots of grand fights.” 

“Altan thought so, too,” the Navigator tells her. “He used to read it all the time, do all the voices. I think… I think the reason he’s stayed with me is because… He wanted that. He wanted it, but he never got it.” He closes his eyes, thinking about the desolate emptiness of Altan’s family tomb. “If I can give him what he wanted, maybe he’ll let me go.” 

She nods again, and releases his hands to pour him another cup of tea. “That’s what they told me, too,” she says. “In Piranesi.” Her gaze settles on her cats; the black one yawns. “They also said I could chase ‘em off if I had the mind to do that instead, but I don’t think that’ll work so well for your friend.” 

“Probably not,” he admits. He wouldn’t want to chase Altan off, anyway. His oldest and truest friend deserves better than that. “What do yours want?” he asks, because he can’t imagine what her cats might like better than their current lording over the engine. 

She chuckles. “That’s a hard question. Gonna talk it over with the Captain later, see what we can come up with. It’s not easy to please an ordinary cat, much less…” She waves a hand vaguely at her beasts. “What’s your plan for a worthy end for your friend?” 

“Death’s Door,” he says. “The Blue Kingdom is a land of ghosts and devils and creatures beyond imagining. Taking Altan all the way to Death’s Door itself - what greater conclusion to a story could you imagine?” 

The expression on the Eccentric’s face says she could imagine many greater conclusions. With a careful diplomacy worthy of the Eagle Khan’s ambassador himself, she says, “If you think that’s the best way for him to go, then I’m sure he’ll love it.” 

The Navigator frowns at her. “You don’t think it’ll be very exciting?” 

“You’ve never been to the Blue Kingdom, have you?” she asks, instead of answering. When he shakes his head no, she adds, “The living are always surprised by what they find there. But it’s worth a try, at least.” She glances under the desk at the orange cat, which has switched from gnawing on her boot to sharpening its claws on her pant leg. “I’ve thought that Asmoday might like the White Well. I’ve no mind to see it myself, but if you were hoping to go there anyway…” 

“The Captain already agreed to it,” the Navigator says. “We discussed it shortly before we docked at Piranesi. I’ve been working to plot our course from New Winchester to the Blue Kingdom relay, actually.” 

“I guess that settles that, then,” the Eccentric says, though there’s a tightness to her mouth that suggests she’s not as comfortable with the idea as she’s trying to sound. She lifts her teacup and holds it out to him as though it’s a mug of ale. “May both our ghosts find rest in the Blue Kingdom.” 

The Navigator clinks his cup lightly against hers. “Here, here,” he agrees, and downs the rest of his tea. They’ve just finished drinking when an unholy screech rips through the engine, and the floor beneath them jolts hard enough that the black cat goes flying. It yowls in betrayal, but the Navigator barely notices as he grabs at the tea set in a desperate attempt to keep it from sliding after the cat. “What was that?!”

Another screech scrapes along his back teeth, even as the Eccentric says, “Scrive spinster. I need to get to the engine room - that sounded like a direct hit to the lateral cylinders.” 

She’s on her feet and halfway to the door as she speaks. The Navigator hurriedly sets his china on the bunk - thankfully the pot is empty, as are their teacups, so his sheets won’t be too badly ruined - and follows. “I’ll see what our escape routes look like.” 

Despite the alarm klaxons blaring through the ship, and the thunder of the forward guns returning fire on the spinster, the Eccentric laughs. “Never a dull day on this engine, eh?” 

The Navigator can’t help a glance back at Altan, still sitting at the window. This might not be the adventure they’d planned as children, but he doesn’t think Altan would mind. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, and he and the Eccentric share a grin before running to their stations to face down the High Wilderness together. 


End file.
